


Such Succulent Stories

by ElmiDol



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alliteration, Blow Jobs, Cunnilingus, F/M, Hopefully not OOC, Oral Sex, Smart!Reader, Vaginal Sex, first time writing loki, human!reader, mostly a PWP, some semblance of a plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-06
Updated: 2019-09-06
Packaged: 2020-10-11 07:55:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20542709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElmiDol/pseuds/ElmiDol
Summary: It started off as a business arrangement. Yet the tabloids hold rather tantalizing tales...





	Such Succulent Stories

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to everyone who voted for a Loki fic. I hope you all enjoy <3

**Such Succulent Stories**

You had had your share of strange men in your bed, and stood firmly with the belief that, had you been male, most would have turned a blind eye or else praised you for all your  _ conquests _ . Truth be told, you had not slept with half as many individuals that had stepped forward for their fifteen minutes of fame. It was easy for you at this point to throw on a sarcastic grin when another report read how you ‘enjoyed being dominated in the bedroom’ and loved when men ‘displayed their natural dominance’; of the latter, you had privately wrinkled your nose and rolled your eyes. The man presently in bed with you was the first that had voiced how  _ pathetic _ those individuals were before promptly tossing aside the paper. What struck you was that he could have easily used the sources as ammunition. Though you had, against your better judgment, offered him a place to stay—more specifically, to  _ hide _ —it was not as though the pair of you were in an amicable relationship. You had simply… You had felt a strong sense of empathy for Loki despite his crimes against humanity. The want to please one’s father yet rebel against them. The mischief. The bad publicity.

The  Jötunn had been assigned a room of his own, one that would have kept him out of sight from any guests that would possibly drop by, your parents high on the list. He had presumably grown bored or simply had an itch for a more social setting. Whatever the case, Loki had entered your bedroom shortly after you had showered and dressed for the night. At that time, you had been sitting up in bed while surveying the blueprints of a new project. This you had immediately hidden when the man had entered. He had wasted no time in teasing that he could leave you at any time, that you had little power to hold him, as the Avengers had also failed to do. As Loki taunted you, you had slowly blinked at him.

It was not as though you expected him to stay for very long. Just enough that if your parents caught wind of it, they would be horrorstruck given the rather public and violent crimes he had committed.

In the meantime, it could be exasperating, having to put up with such childish behavior. It was clear to you that the Jötunn simply wanted attention given the fact that he had accepted your invitation. Being the daughter of a popular socialite, one who had given you connections to Tony Stark—one of your inventions had assisted the man in completing a project, albeit only after he had made adjustments to the model you had created—it had left you disenchanted. News sources had reported that the Avengers had apprehended the alien terror, yet there he had been. Right in front of your face, a chance meeting. You had been in an argument with your father earlier in the evening, and that had definitely been a factor in prompting you to extend the invitation to this stranger. Initially Loki had resorted to insulting you, the male believing that you had been propositioning him for sex. The derisive snort had caused him to narrow his eyes and admit he was unsure if he should be insulted or not. Amusement filled his gaze. And then he had accepted.

Now here he was, in your bedroom of his own accord.

With a sigh, you had shut off the bedside lamp, rolled over, and asked if he was going to be finished soon. This most certainly had  _ not _ been an invitation for him to join you in bed. Loki, however, had taken it as such. Or else he did not care, and was merely hellbent on seeing what buttons he could get away with pushing. You turned onto your other side, ensuring that your back was to the Jötunn. He huffed at the display; it meant that you were not afraid to have your back to him despite the crimes that had been widely publicized, which was yet another wound to the man’s pride.

When he had failed to use the jab  _ looks like I’m another man in your bed _ or something similar, you turned to face him anew. Loki was lying on his back, his eyes scanning the vast emptiness of the ceiling. You fell asleep watching him; and, when you awoke in the morning, he was gone.

For months you had believed that that would be the last of the contact you had with him. You threw yourself into your work when not committed to your daughterly duties. There were less reports regarding supposed conquests. There were other, far more important things to report on. Attacks using alien technology. The exploits of the Avengers. That wasn’t to say the news disappeared entirely.

One of the men had the audacity to approach you at the next social gathering you attended. A low buzzing sensation built up at the base of your neck as he spoke to you. All smiles. Placing  _ you _ in the uncomfortable position of forcing civility to avoid a scene. You could imagine how the headlines might have read otherwise; scorned lover, bitter ex, anything along those lines. You were not one for  _ bad publicity is still publicity _ , however you had decided to maintain control over the things that you could. A headline tagging you as being unstable was more damaging than one that regarded sex, even sex that had never happened. Those in business with you placed value on your ability to remain professional, to not fly into bouts of rage. It made you more approachable.

“The dress compliments your figure,” the man said, his eyes trailing up and down your frame. Ideally, no one should be forced to grow accustomed to others objectifying them in this manner. This man cared nothing for your profession. He had no respect for you. To him, you were but a body to be fucked. There it was, though, that you  _ were _ used to these sorts of situations.

Your smile became more strained, yet you managed to keep yourself in check. “Thank you.” There was an unmistakable bit to your words despite mostly polite tone you used. A warning.

He either missed the hint or did not care. His hand met the bare flesh of your upper arm, his thumb giving it a gentle caress that, to you, felt like the bite of steel nails. For appearance’s sake, he would not push much further. That hardly assisted in keeping down the roiling sense of disgust that was making your stomach churn.

The sound of your name spilling from the lips of someone else drew your attention away from the discomfort of the touch, which broke away as the man withdrew his hand a fraction. You looked away from your unwanted companion to greet the individual who had spoken your name. He was not someone that you recognized. This led you to believe that either you had met in passing, or else he knew who you were from either your work or the tabloids. The man’s eyes were rather piercing in their intensity; there was something familiar with how they seemed unyielding. He did not so much as glance away when your gaze locked onto his. It was captivating. And, unlike the other man near you, those eyes did not wander your body. You took a step away from the first individual to properly address the other.

“It’s nice to see you,” the man said in return, placing the tips of four fingers on either of your arms as he leaned in to touch his cheek to yours. You found yourself returning the gesture with an absence of discomfort. There had been others like this, although they had generally been older; your father or mother’s friends, none of whom sexualized you. You wondered if this was some relation of theirs. As the pair of you broke apart from the loose embrace, the man sidestepped so that he was standing in front of the other. You inwardly smirked. “I hear you are making a breakthrough.”

There was a momentary pause. Your mind worked through the various things that he could be referring to; when it came to these social gatherings for your parents, you hardly ever brought up your own endeavors. When your thoughts did catch up, there was no readied response on the tip of your tongue. Only a handful of people knew the nature of the project that you had started. You did have a patent on it, which meant that if someone wanted to look things up, it was not outside of the realm of possibility that they would. The basic version had been completed. You were in the process of expanding on the project before another could.

“Yes,” you said. There was no longer a smile coming from you. Instead you were growing more guarded. This man could be nothing more than competition.

“I have been  _ very _ interested in merging our ideas,” he said. You blinked a single time, yet again working through where you might have met this man. You did not want to come off as rude by asking for his identity on the chance that it was something you  _ should _ have known already. When you did not reply after a few more seconds transpired, the man inclined his head and whispered, as though saying something scandalous, “We can discuss it later.” He lifted a single finger to his lips conspiratorially.

Before a single question could leave your lips, the man excused himself. You twisted a little to follow him with your eyes. Would a female friend of the family have arrived to visit with you for the next few minutes, you would have followed after him. You had hoped to ascertain at least his name.

You transferred your attention to the woman. It was a pleasure to see her, as she had been away on an extended business venture for the past three years. Her travels had been something you had followed on a shared social media platform, however that was never quite the same as seeing someone in person. You embraced one another without being too intimate; you would have otherwise hugged her more tightly. She was an individual you viewed as akin to family despite the absence of any blood or marital relation. When it had come to your first project, it was she who had given you much support while most of your parents’s other peers had given you humored smiles. They had not believed in you, not like this woman had.

“Celia,” you said as the pair of you drew apart. Her hands held yours for a beat longer. “I was hoping to see you.”

Celia gave a sort of hum of acknowledgment that also contained a reciprocation of that stated desire. “I have been absolutely  _ exhausted _ ,” she said whilst placing three fingers against her right cheek. It was here that you noticed a faint rosiness. One strong indication that she spoke only the truth. “There has been much to catch up on now that I will be home again. My granddaughter is beginning school. I’ve missed so much already.” That was the cruel side to being successful. It was a trade-off, but here it had supplied Celia with the means necessary to keep her future work local. That had been her goal, thus you were proud of and for her.

Her presence, unlike that of the male stranger, dissuaded the man from remaining. He could not interrupt this reunion without revealing how much of an ass that he was. Celia must have noticed this as well. She always was good at reading your moods. The both of you smiled knowingly at each other as you listened to the sounds of the man’s retreat. This marked the start of your actually enjoying yourself at this event. You stayed with Celia, who was more than happy to talk of her travels as much as listen to your experiences in her absence.

Towards the end of the evening, Celia had to dismiss herself. This left you in a state of mild apprehension, for you had not failed to notice that the man you so hoped to avoid remained present. You accepted a glass of water instead of indulging with a drink of alcohol. And, oh, you were craving something that would give you a mild sense of numbness. Years of being under the magnifying glass had instilled in you a generous amount of self-control. That is to say, you planned to reward yourself once you were in the privacy of your own home and away from eyes that searched for any excuse to write a story. The water was welcomely received by your throat. You had not realized how dry it had become with all the talking you had been doing. You took another sip then paused with your lips sealed around the rim.

Once more you had caught sight of the stranger. Those familiar eyes were trained on you, which caused a warmth to blossom from within. He was rather attractive in subtle ways that not everyone near him appreciated. He could blend in with a crowd while, given the correct posture, become a focal point. Perhaps this was why you had failed to place a name with the face.

You and he began to walk towards one another. Both of you had your fair share of interrupts in the form of other guests engaging you in polite chat. Each time this occurred, it felt as though your heart hiccuped in your chest. You worried that the man would disappear, this time for good. A silly thing to be concerned with when he had voiced his desire to discuss your project along with his own. He spoke first when the two of you were in front of one another. An offer to walk you home. It threw you off guard, a silence developing between the two of you.

There was a small noodle shop that was near where you lived, and you countered his offer with this location instead. He decided to accept, the man showing no signs of hesitation. This increased your intrigue in what business proposition he had in mind.

Stepping outside, you inhaled deeply through your nose. The air lacked a mixture of perfume and cologne as your previous location had contained. Your stomach growled. You had eaten small bits here and there at the event. Nothing equivalent to a meal, and it was an inspiration for you to suggest the noodle shop. Business discussions over food, in your experience, tended to yield the best results. The location would not be crowded at this time of night. Less of a chance for eavesdroppers.

“At this risk of sounding like a complete ass,” you started, knowing in the back of your mind that your phrasing was rather unprofessional, “I don’t know if I happened to catch your name. Or if we have met prior to tonight.”

“We have.” His lips tugged upwards, more on one side than the other. You felt your eyes narrow slightly at the sight of the smirk. There was something you felt you should recognize in it. “There was never a story written on it.”

It felt like a punch to the gut. Not his words or his attitude, but the memory of several tabloid tales such as the one with the night’s unwanted companion. You began to wrack your brain in an attempt to unveil this man’s identity. Generally when you met with someone for business, there were no such fictitious accounts of sex. There had been one exception, which had not, thankfully, been the other party’s fault either. Both you and he had had your hands full with correcting that mistake. It had been the only accusation that you had fought. This had been for his family more than your sense of pride. Aside from those meetings, none stood out. Save, of course, the incident months ago in which you had thrown caution to the wind in a welcoming gesture for the formation of another lie. Yet there had been no pictures of Loki, no story written of your being with a strange man.

This man was no Loki though.

Except for his eyes, the sense of superiority he seemed to stare at others with. As though they were lesser than him. As though they should bow before him. That smirk. Playful, and…

You found yourself looking to the side. Neither of you had paused in walking. You were a single step ahead of him, mostly at his side while maintaining the lead since you had picked the destination. Tracing his countenance anew, you tried to pick out any other similarities between this man and the Jötunn that had slept in your bed. Visually, they did not share more than a handful of features. In terms of their posture and mannerisms, however, you discovered that you were lining up the pair and finding that they were, essentially, one in the same.

But that was ridiculous, wasn’t it?

Unless the trickster was also able to change his form. Hadn’t mythology suggested as much though?

“This is a rather advanced form of catfishing, isn’t it?” Skeptical to the last, you tried, “Or are you trying to remain low key so that your...business rivals...don’t discover your location?” His smile broadened. He looked at your face in full, his eyes gleaming in satisfaction. “And what do us lesser mortals have for you?” You kept your tone playful while also guarded. He had already admitted to wanting to obtain your project. Given that he had been a major player, a cause, for what had happened to New York, you were hesitant to agree to the arrangement. Upsetting your father with a story regarding an intimate encounter between you and a wanted fugitive was  _ much _ different than assisting in a plot to kill thousands, if not the entire planet. “This has nothing to do with Midgard.” You were less than inclined to believe him. “I am not the only one seeking the stones.”

You had absolutely  _ no _ idea what he was referring to, and you were doubtful that he would elaborate. What you  _ did _ know was that, ultimately, whatever schemes Loki was involved in, at some point they would come to Earth. That was the way of things. It was why the Avengers had been formed. The Starks had sometimes had the mindset of  _ if I don’t develop it, someone else will _ when it came to weapons that were later found in the hands of the enemy. You had avoided creating anything that could easily be weaponized. What you were working on had never seemed compatible with a weapon, not that you could tell.

“And why is it, pray tell, that you are asking permission rather than simply stealing my work?” It was a valid question that you posed, and one that the disguised Loki did not dismiss. He informed you that you were the one  _ best suited to alter your work to optimize its compatibility for the merge _ .

The finer details he began to discuss only once the two of you were tucked away in a corner of the noodle shop with food in front of you. You ate while listening to him speak. Loki did not touch the food. You had the food boxed since it was unmolested, and you carried it with you with the intention of eating it as leftovers the next day. The Jötunn walked alongside you. His earlier offer to walk you home had become one you accepted. This was largely because you had questions about the project. It did not, from what you could tell, go against your moral code. You were a bit cynical as to what he would later develop it into. That was countered with how the merge could help future projects on your end. Projects that could assist those in the healthcare profession.

Since he had been in your home before, you were comfortable inviting him inside to go through the final touches of the agreement. Portions that neither of you would chance being overheard. He dropped his disguise after the door was closed. It was mind-boggling to witness such a thing. Something you had for most of your life believed to be science fiction or fantasy.

Recovering, you completed the task of putting the boxed food into the refrigerator, and then went into the living room to sit on your couch. Loki stood across the room from you.

The project had been in its infancy when he had last been there. He had not been oblivious to it. You wondered just how much snooping he had done while you slept in bed, believing him to be there with you. One might say that he had taken advantage of your hospitality, however you had been using him as well. The pair of you were at ease with one another. Discussing business rather than teasing you, Loki was earning a level of your respect. You were not uncomfortable with the fact that he had become interested in your project, and the two of you managed to agree to a deadline at which point the Jötunn would return.

He donned his disguise before leaving. Which was just as well. Otherwise the subsequent scandal may have been worse. It was bad enough that pictures of you and his disguised form were plastered on the tabloids.  _ Mystery Man _ . You had kept a copy for your amusement. The writer’s theories on what had gone down were so far off base that you couldn’t help but wonder if they were reading some of the mediocre erotica novels that were being praised in recent months. There were common tropes and themes to be had.

Though you did not forget about the story entirely, it was quickly shoved deep into your subconscious so that you could focus all of your energy on completing the alterations that had been requested of you. The theory behind the merge had sounded simple. The execution of tasks, on the other hand, were tedious. There were volatile components, which resulted in failure multiple times over. Had not a necessity for secrecy been present, you would have brought in a team that you had worked alongside on previous projects. More often than not, you ended each day with a headache or full-blown migraine that never fully faded before morning reared its ugly head.

In under a week, your sleep schedule was nonexistent. You napped between equal bouts of progress and frustration; generally you climbed onto your couch or else slept on the floor. Only once could you remember getting into bed. Your hygiene took a slight blow as well, although this you remedied with a shower. The temperature of the water served also to reduce some of the muscle strain that you were experiencing. This, in turn, assisted with lessening the strength of those ever-lingering headaches. You made a mental promise to yourself that you would indulge in a massage once you completed the project. For the time being, you stressed over the looming deadline. You were simultaneously convinced that you would finish in time and would fail to do so.

This experience was not entirely new to you. On your very first large project, you had gained an appreciation for the Starks. Granted they had teams and plenty of employees to offer up ideas, there was much to be said for perfecting an invention and putting it on the market.

You did not doubt that you looked a mess when the day of reckoning arrived. There was no one you were seeking to impress, which gave you confidence enough to dress in comfortable clothes after fixing your hair to look somewhat presentable. The mirror had revealed the bags under your eyes from one final sleepless night. You were unable to keep from grinning to yourself despite all of this. You had done it.

“Such succulent stories would spill should prying eyes catch sight of you now.” You had jumped in place, audibly sucked in air—yet thankfully had not released a yelp. Turning, you tried to ascertain how long the Jötunn had been there. The copy of the old tabloid in his hand was quite possibly yours. Even if it wasn’t, that he was aware of its existence caused a sort of swimming sensation in your stomach.

For want of something, anything, to do, you cleared your throat. Found several positions for your hands and arms before at last settling on one. Clearing your throat a second time, you started to speak. Your voice was pitched, the fact that you were flustered being so obvious made you sink further into your embarrassment. “I finished.”

His eyebrows twitched towards one another before he could fully control his facial features. You doubted he had expected anything less. It also occurred to you, not for the first time, that this man viewed humans as inferiors. The swimming sensation returned, coupled with heat inside your chest. Loki was speaking to you as an equal. Which may have been part of the ruse, a false charm to get on your better side until he had no more need of your mind. In that, he wouldn’t be very different from rival companies.

Loki transferred his attention away from you. The tabloid was placed on a decorative table that he passed when walking to where the reason for his presence was located. His fingers danced along the surface. The real treasure was within the casing.

“It must be wearisome to be overlooked when you are the superior.”

You had the distinct impression that he was not talking about you—or not  _ only _ about you. Thor popped into your head. His name didn’t escape your mouth. That would have created a world of trouble.

“They have this perception of you...which can come in handy. Being underestimated sometimes offers an advantage.” Here he looked over his shoulder at you, one of his characteristic smirks lightening the mood. You murmured in agreement. There was no chance of you truthfully claiming innocence in whatever scheme he had worked up that inspired this line of conversation. He was not foolish enough, you thought, to paint Earth as his target; not so soon after facing and failing to defeat the Avengers. That wasn’t to say that Thor wouldn’t be a target. The god of thunder was back on Asgard as far as you knew. Or was this something more to do with whomever he had previously been aligned? Those creatures in New York, the destruction that had been wrought, you did not believe for a second that Loki had acted alone.

Whatever these  _ stones _ were that the Jötunn had previously mentioned, you were certain that they were involved.

There was no definitive proof to support your assessment, as Loki did not offer up evidence prior to his departure. Now that he had what he needed from you, you sincerely doubted that you would be seeing him again.

The ability to be wrong was not beyond your range of skills.

In answer to opening the door and finding him there, you had scowled and shut the door in his face whilst stating that your newest project  _ wouldn’t be of any interest to him _ . More sleepless nights had left you in a grumpy mood. Plus, it had been months since last you had seen the silver tongued devil, and you were under no thrall. His voice carried through the barrier between you. It was endearing, in a strange way, that he had failed to press into your home, as he easily could have. Instead he stated that women generally preferred being valued for their minds. It was equal parts a compliment and an insult. Manipulation, you thought, in the form of flattery.

“Working with you isn’t quite a lucrative business,” you called over your shoulder. This was far from entirely true. The project that he had carted off with him on his previous visit had allowed you to, as you had hoped, develop machinery that would soon be found in several hospitals across the country. This in turn had placed you back on the market, and stories on you had nothing, or very little, to do with your sex life.

As these truths presented themselves, the nuisances, you rolled your eyes and returned to the door. There was silence from the other side. You were also quiet, opting to listen as you waited to see if the Jötunn had left.

“Come now. Give us a taste.”

You pursed your lips forward and narrowed your eyes. “Of my project?” A brief chuckle on his part. That was comforting. He did not find you, a mere human, so abhorrent or the idea of sex with you so offensive that his response would be belittling. Your hand wrapped around the handle. This time when you opened the door, you waited until he had walked inside before closing it again. “You’ve been keeping tabs on me.” Your earlier decision to shower that morning was one you felt grateful for. You had been even more of a mess prior to it.

On the floor and the nearby coffee table in the living room there were papers, devices, tools, and a plate of food along with three different drinks. Two of them had caffeine, while the other was water so that you kept properly hydrated. Loki avoided stepping on any of your materials. He crossed the length of the room to where the bulk of your notes were kept. The look he gave it was short lived. The Jötunn turned around to stare at you instead. There was a proposition he wanted to make; not this project, but a different one that he had in mind.

“So is this an official partnership?” you asked tiredly. You had one hand on your hip and your head cocked to the side. “I’m the brains, you’re the beauty.” There was an eye twitch from him. “Okay. You can be the brains and the beauty.” As though you were pandering to a child.

“You’ve grown bold in my absence.” A hint of irritation, although nothing he couldn’t keep tapped down. By way of response, you gave a half shrug then gestured for him to continue with his proposal.

This project was far more intricate than the previous. Hours passed as the two of you discussed the details. The timeline was more flexible, although Loki was insistent that your focus remained on it, that you completed it as soon as possible. Evening, and the discussion had not wrapped up. You ordered food on the phone. When it arrived, this time Loki did eat. You offered him the guest room as you had before. Exhaustion had gotten the better of you. It was difficult to focus on what was being said towards the end. The agreement was for the two of you to finish the arrangements in the morning.

Which was why you groaned and rolled over onto your other side when he entered your room in the middle of the night. Papers rustled. This time you knew for certain that it  _ was _ your copy of the tabloid. The Jötunn was interested in the fact that you had still had it in your possession. You did not have a copy of any of your other supposed encounters.

“Is this tantalizing tale of our tryst a source for a quivering”—you shot up in bed, pillow in hand and then thrown across the room—“in your breast?” Your fingers curled towards your palm. That had ended a little differently than you had expected.

The pillow had missed him at any rate. It had instead hit the wall three inches to his left then plopped onto the floor. You propped yourself up on your elbows to watch him. The tabloid was open, its form bent over on itself, the page detailing the hypothetical sexcapades between you and this man facing him. His eyes danced along the lines. Could he see them in the near-dark? It would have been pitch black in your room, however light from street lamps filtered in through the drawn curtains. The silver tongued devil started to read aloud, his low voice and the filthy words causing a, how he had put it, quivering in your breast...and elsewhere.

You squeezed your thighs together. An internal struggle began in your tired mind. You should tell him to stop. This was to be business, not… Not sexual at all. Damn did his tongue skillfully dance along each word. When he broke off, your torment did not end.

“Do you truly enjoy being dominated in the bedroom?”

Your mouth opened, however only air left you. Loki hooked a finger, summoning you to climb out of bed and come to him. Why you obeyed, you were not certain. Perhaps you were under a thrall.

“Kneel.” Whispered but commanding. Again you did not argue. You sunk down onto your knees, your head tilted back so that you could peer up into his face. Loki had shifted aside the tabloid, holding it away to better watch you. “Now…”

“Give us a taste,” you purred, using the same tone that he had. Playful, teasing. His hips shifted almost imperceptibly. Permission for you to continue. Your hands met the material of his pants, the cloth soft on your palms as you trailed them upwards. You worked to free him, wrapped your hand around his length. His breath caught in his throat when contact was first made. Licking your lips, you leaned forward and teased his slit with the very tip of your tongue. You used your forearms to keep aside the material of his pants. Thumb skimmed along the head of his erection, smearing both saliva and precum. You wrapped your lips around him, stroking downwards in time with how you bobbed your head. You hollowed your cheeks, taking more of him in. A hand met the back of your head, fingers in your hair. Loki urged you forward. Your tongue cradled the underside of his shaft. You undulated the organ. Repeated the action while pulling back only to once more work more of him into your mouth. Your hand tended to the part of him that you could not fit.

The next time you pulled back, his cock left your mouth with a  _ pop _ , a trail of saliva between you. You ignored the wetness, focusing on him. You tilted your head and swiped your tongue from left to right directly under the head. Your hand moved in slow stroke, your hot breath a steady stream as you blew on his wet flesh. The tabloid fluttered the ground a moment before his hands were on either side of your head. He pushed forward into your open mouth. You held onto his thighs as the muscles in your throat tensed, relaxed, tensed again.

You moaned around him, a whimper leaving shortly thereafter as he pushed you back. Not roughly. It was a guiding motion, one that you cooperated with. A pressure had started in your stomach and moved downwards. You felt yourself growing wet. You were made to walk backwards until the backs of your legs met the bed. Once there, you sat, laid down. Spread your legs, but did not dare command the Jötunn to kneel, to do anything. That silence did not prevent him from fulfilling such desires. He easily disrobed you, that talented silver tongue twisting along your thighs, trailing towards your outer then inner lips. Your stomach seemed to swoop at the sensation, more heat and wetness flowing from you.

You arched your back when he first slipped his tongue inside of you. Loki worked his index finger into you, stretching you wider. He used the slickness of your juices and his saliva to aid in slipping a second finger into you. His tongue withdrew, the two digits curling and uncurling as he stroked deep within you, drawing out a moan of need from your parted lips. He began to scissor you, spreading you in a way that foretold his ultimate intentions. His tongue worked you over again, tasting you, fucking you.

Loki flicked your clitoris back and forth, rotating the small bud. HIs fingers, all the while, worked at a leisurely pace. You felt hot, from your face down to the very tips of your toes, with arousal.

Trembling as he climbed up the length of your body, you managed to scoot backwards so that you were both fully on the bed. Loki leaned his face near yours, his teeth capturing your bottom lip, which he sucked into his mouth for a beat, his tongue rolling against the captured flesh. He released it, letting it noisily pop back into place while his hands pushed his pants further down his hips. He pressed his body to yours without moving inside of you. The Jötunn rocked his hips, dipping, his cock moving between your outer lips, the head of his erection brushing against your clitoris, your stomach.

It was when you whispered a soft  _ please _ of absolute need that the head of his cock met your entrance. The delicious pressure of being filled had your mouth hanging open in a soundless display of pleasure. It took several seconds for you to recover, to be able to fill your lungs with a sharp inhalation of much needed air. His cock stroked your inner walls, making you feel complete. Loki mouthed your clothed breast, shoving up your shirt until he could make contact with the skin beneath. You turned your head to the side, your eyelids fluttering. All the while, your hands explored his body. You dipped them underneath his shirt to trace his abdomen, the muscles of which undulated at the contact made.

His hands fell to your ass, one shifting to your thigh, so that he could spread you more open as he began to withdraw. Then he pressed your limbs towards one another as he thrust back in, increasing the delicious amount of pressure the both of you felt. The friction had your legs trembling. Jolts of pleasure were setting your nerves on fire, your mind in an absolute haze. You could not stop your eyelids from fluttering as your orgasm started to build. The pair of you moved together, his thrusts alternating between shallow to deep. His hips a staccato then more languid. Bringing you to the edge of orgasm only to deny it, a constant wave that had tears beginning to leak from you. Absolute need had you again uttering a  _ please _ , this one far more desperate.

With a purr, Loki told you to cum, teased you as he let the dam break. The world around you was black with spots of white. All you could hear was his voice as you drowned in ecstasy. He continued to move above you, to seek his own release. He growled when he came. His fingers cupped your chin. “Give us a kiss.” You felt his mouth atop yours, started to return the kiss, to moan when his tongue began to explore. You could taste yourself on him, a fact that had your thighs clutching his body.

The two of you broke away from one another when air became too much of a need. As on his first time in your home, Loki stared up at the ceiling, and you fell asleep watching him.

There were no tabloid stories of this encounter, nor the others that followed. That was the funny thing about tabloids. They never seemed to get the true story. In this case, however, they had predicted it.


End file.
